


Time Enough

by romanticalgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl





	Time Enough

Hermione ran her hand along the long, golden chain as she stared out into the large ballroom. Ron was talking to Harry and Ginny, smiling widely as he glanced in Hermione’s direction. She smiled back, sighing softly to herself as she turned away from him for a moment, letting the chain drop back beneath the fall of silk that made up her dress before facing the ballroom again.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Harry grinned at the loudest table in the room, “and Weasleys.” Fred and George raised their glasses to him in toast as he stood, tapping a fork against the crystal of his glass. “I’d like to make a toast.”

A hush fell over the room and all eyes turned to Harry. He ignored the attention, focusing his on the couple in front of him as Ron slid his arm around Hermione’s waist.

“A lifetime ago I met Ron and Hermione and, more than finding out everything else I found out that year, they changed my life. And now, they’re about to embark on a whole new life together and the rest of us really are just relieved that they’re getting on with it.” He grinned at Ron’s darkening glare and lifted his glass higher. “You’re my best friends in the world, Muggle and Wizard alike. I love you both and I wish you the best in the love you have for each other.”

The room chorused with agreement as Ron and Hermione clinked glasses with Harry then looked at each other, eyes closing as they kissed. The room erupted in more risqué catcalls as the music started up and, pulling away from her lips; Ron guided her to the dance floor.

Music drifted over them as they ignored the rest of the world, moving easily in each other’s embrace.

**

The long porch narrowed close to the front of the building, disappearing into nothing not far from where Fred stood, the strains of music barely reaching his ears. He knew the tune well enough, as Ron had been playing it on a non-stop loop, practicing his footwork with Ginny to make sure he didn’t end up stepping on his bride’s toes and launching their marriage with a full-scale argument.

“Merlin, I hate this fucking song.”

“I would think you’d like it. After all, it’s well over ten minutes long.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, trying hard not to smile. “D’you pick it? Or did he?”

“He did.” Hermione approached him, her wedding gown swaying around her like a second skin. “Hopefully you got us a lovely wedding present as a way of saying thanks.”

“I doubt seriously Ron’d want any thanks I could give him, considering what I’m thanking him for.” Fred caught her hand and pulled her against him, his eyes devouring her. “Something tells me Ickle Ronniekins wouldn’t be all that appreciative of the fact that I’m about to fuck his wife.”

“How much worse is it, do you think?” Hermione asked softly as Fred inhaled the scent of her, his lips moving over her neck. “Than fucking his girlfriend and his fiancée?”

“I could ask him,” Fred offered, trailing his tongue along the lace that arched over her shoulder. “If you’d like.”

“You know exactly what I like, Fred,” she reminded him as she caught his head between her hands, forcing his eyes to hers. Her mouth brushed against his as she held his gaze. “What I want?”

Fred groaned and nodded, threading one hand through her hair, working the pins free from the thick strands. Hermione chuckled softly and shook her head, stilled as his lips found hers, his tongue parting them as his fingers threaded through her hair, sending it cascading down her bare neck.

Hermione moaned quietly into his mouth as his other hand slid around her waist, pulling her hard against him. The material of her dress slithered against his dress robes, the dark slacks beneath them as he edged one leg between both of hers, the silk trapped between them. He put pressure on the small of her back, bringing her closer as he leaned back against the wall, her whole body lying against his.

“Well, as I’ve known you for years now,” he murmured against her skin, tasting the delicate sheen of perspiration and the silvery scent of her perfume, “I would have to say what you want is likely to be a heavy, dusty tome unreadable by the majority of the world, even if they were to have a desire to read it.” He chuckled as she purred with pleasure, her neck arching as he nuzzled her.

“You’re very wrong,” she assured him breathlessly.

“Ah then, I suppose I should go to your Prefecting days and your magical law enforcement and make you admit that what you really want is to punish me.” He lifted his eyebrows as he slid the neckline of the dress off her shoulder, placing a warm kiss there, tracing the mark with his tongue. “Might I suggest a pair of handcuffs, a nice firm paddle and turning me over your knee?”

“Doesn’t quite seem the right time for that.” She caught his head again and looked into his eyes, reflecting his own amusement back at him. “Are you sure you want to play guessing games? The song’s almost over.”

“I don’t believe,” his voice lost all of its humor, grew deeper with seriousness, “that you’ve only given me ten minutes for all of this.” His hands skirted her waist, slid over her hips. “You know better.”

“I do, do I?” She managed to gasp out the words as he slid his tongue into the valley between her breasts.

“How many turns, Hermione?”

“I don’t think the question is how long until I’m missed.” She pulled away from him, catching his hand and leading him down the short flight of steps to the grass. “The question is how long until you are?”

**

Hermione smiled back at Fred as she led him under the archway of the gazebo, shadowed lattice patterned on their bodies as the sun disappeared behind dark clouds, the distant rumble of thunder playing counterpoint to the music flowing from the open doors of the building behind them.

“A cloaking spell won’t work,” she whispered as she turned to him, sliding her arms beneath his robes, around his waist. “The Time-Turner prevents me from being affected by any magic.” Her hands curved over his ass, squeezing lightly. “I can’t offer you punishment. Will exhibitionism suffice?”

“She asked of the man who once fucked her on his broom above the Quidditch Pitch?” He ran one hand down her back, fingers catching the zipper that held her dress together. “I want you out of this thing.”

“So I’d noticed.” She stepped back and guided the dress off her shoulders, letting it fall down her arms, pressing the draped fabric against her chest. “The material’s rather delicate.”

He growled low, his fingers tracing the neckline, curving around it and threatening to pull. “Then get rid of it.”

She pulled further away from him and stepped out of the dress, carefully draping it over the back of a chair that circled the small table in the middle of the large structure. He stared at her, eyes roaming over flesh and lace, swallowing hard at the sight of her pale skin framed by flimsy, sheer material that exposed more than it covered.

“I’d think Ron was a lucky bastard, except I’ve beaten him to it.” He moved closer to her, trailing the back of his fingers over her nipple, inhaling as it hardened beneath his touch. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m waiting.”

He laughed softly, looking at her from under long ginger lashes. “Impatient, are you? I thought we had all the time in the world.” He leaned down, replacing his fingers with his tongue, rolling it against the rough rasp of fabric, the hard softness of her flesh. His hands moved to her waist, sliding around it until he felt the lacings that held the sheer material together, working slowly to unravel it, letting it slide against her skin until it all fell away in his hands.

Hermione shivered as the first raindrops began to fall. Fred backed away from her as he slipped the lingerie off and tossed it on top of her gown, his eyes locked on her breasts, his attentions having brought both of them to hardness, the cool air tightening them further. He let his gaze drop down to the triangle of mesh that covered the tangle of hair between her thighs then brought one finger down between both breasts until it reached where his eyes rested. “Fred,” she whispered as she shuddered.

“I want to rip it off you, Hermione. Tear it to shreds so I can fuck you so hard and fast you can’t help but scream, bringing the whole wedding party down on us.” He hooked his fingers under the elastic that served as a waistband and slowly slid it down her hips. “Leave it lying here on the ground after I dress you back up so prim and proper to go back to your husband.”

She shivered again as he straightened, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulled her to him, his mouth over hers. Her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks as she waited for his kiss. Fred waited until her eyes opened, meeting his, before he bent his head, letting his breath fall over her as he slid his tongue into the welcoming heat of her mouth.

Hermione moaned quietly, the sound lost in Fred’s explorations. His tongue was hard and rough, his lips pressed tightly to hers. Her hand scrabbled against his robes, sliding over the velvety surface. Fred grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her skin before he eased her away from him, giving her no time to protest before he bent his head and took one of her tight nipples into his mouth.

She grasped his hair, fingers fisting in the too-long ginger strands, tugging as his teeth and tongue worked over her flesh, feasting on it. He squeezed the nipple of her other breast with one hand before trailing it down her stomach and outlining her navel before slipping his fingers into the downy hair between her thighs.

“Fred,” she breathed above him, her fingers tightening further until his hair felt as if it would come out by the roots. Ignoring the pain, he feathered the hair with the pads of his fingers then parted it, sliding his cool hand between her legs and burying his fingers in the hot flesh surrounding her clit.

Hermione released him and he could feel her body shift, knew her head was tilted back, mouth open. He smiled to himself and sank down onto his knees, teasing the hard nub with one finger until his breath stirred the curls and his tongue cut a path through them to her clit. She moaned, the sound throaty and hoarse and seeming far away as she leaned back, caught on the same chair as her dress. Her legs parted further and he slipped his fingers inside her, delving into the molten wet of her sex before giving in to her whimpered pleas and taking her clit between his teeth, sucking on the engorged flesh.

Her body clenched around him as he tasted her, slick and wet on his tongue, his fingers saturated with the liquid heat of her. One hand returned to his hair, holding him against her as her hips rocked forward, rolling against him like waves timed to the thrust of his fingers inside her.

Her breathing changed, reaching his ears in barely voiced pants that he felt more than heard. Pulling away, he eased his fingers out of her and licked his lips, standing before her and drinking her in. Both hands were now holding the back of the chair, her dress slightly wrinkled where her body rested against it. Her legs were splayed, pink flesh highlighted by wet, dark curls open for him to see, open for him.

She was still and silent for a moment, then she was on him, her hands unfastening his robe and letting it fall to the floor. She bit at his jaw, fierce and hungry as she unbuttoned his shirt, uncaring as a few buttons scattered across the floor. Her mouth was hot, her words barely vocal as she shoved his shirt apart, tugging it free of his trousers and pressing her own breasts against him. He groaned in unison with her, his arms going around her waist, his hands grabbing her ass and squeezing, thrusting her against him.

“Pants,” she groaned, working her hand between them to unfasten his fly, shoving pants and boxer briefs down his legs, moaning as she had to pull away to accomplish it. Fred pulled her toward him, wanting his tongue in her mouth again, surprised as her hands met his stomach, pushing him back onto the table behind him.

She placed one knee beside his thigh and grabbed the pole that came down from the roof, using it for leverage as she hoisted herself above him. Her naked body bore down on his, breasts swollen and cherry tipped, tight in the cool afternoon. She stilled just above him, his hard cock grazing her wet flesh. He smiled wickedly then grabbed her hips, pulling her down as he thrust upward. Hermione’s groan answered his as her flesh sheathed him.

“Up, up,” he whispered, nodding as she tightened her grip on the pole, holding it as she thrust down onto him, her body arching forward with each movement. He licked at her breasts, tasting sweat and the tang of rain on her skin until he caught a nipple, sucking hard at it until she cried out, her head thrown back to the sky as her body tensed and she came all around him.

Fred wrapped his arms around her body as she slumped against him, hands falling down his back as her bent head sent a cascade of frizzing curls around him. He inhaled her scent, his body still not sated as he continued pushing into her, feeling her flood around him until she caught her breath and pulled back, looking into his eyes. “Such restraint, Mr. Weasley.”

“First punishment,” he grunted approval as she began moving again, skin moving like warm water over his, coaxing and caressing. “Now bondage. Really, Mrs. Weasley,” he purred the name as he bit lightly at her breast, leaving a soft red mark, “you’re quite naughty.”

“Naughty enough to tie you to the bed and spank you,” she whispered in his ear, “do you think?”

Fred moaned, the sound disappearing in her hair as the wind blew it into his open mouth, surrounding him with her as his climax pulsed inside her. He held her hips tightly, keeping her body against his as spasms rocked through him, his hips colliding upward. He panted softly as he relaxed, slumping back against the pole. “That last bit was unfair, you know.”

“Was it?” She moved slowly, easing away from him. “How so?”

“Well, I’m going to think of it when I least expect it and have a inexplicable raging hard-on.”

She laughed softly and took the wand from his robe, cleaning both of them with a quick spell before gathering her clothes and dressing slowly. He watched her with open appreciation. “You’re a young, virile man. I doubt a hard-on would be inexplicable.”

“What I want to do with it would be.” He caught her hand and pulled her against him, lingerie against his bare skin. “Was this goodbye then?”

She pulled away and stepped into her dress, turning so he could do up the fasteners that held it together. “I don’t recall saying goodbye.”

“Not with words.”

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s what’s right,” he reminded her, finally dressing himself as she tangled her hair up in the pins he’d thought he’d discarded.

“And Fred Weasley is terribly concerned with what’s right, is that it?”

“Fred Weasley is terribly concerned with when he’s going to be tied up by his brother’s wife. Which is a bit concerning, don’t you think?”

“It’s not goodbye.” She glanced at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. “Or it won’t be so long as we manage to make it back to the hall in five minutes.” She took his hand and started back toward the lights that spilled onto the grass. “Today’s not a day to talk about endings, Fred. It’s a day for beginnings.” She kissed his cheek and smiled, darting away as the French doors swung open and Fred’s mirror twin stepped out and inhaled the sweet, rain-scented air.

“Oi, Fred. Where’ve you been? Everything’s set up for the going away, mate. I need you in place.”

“Just checking some last minute details, George.”

“Everything’s all right then?”

Fred nodded as he stepped into the hall, a grin matching George’s on his face as he thought of what they had in store for their Ickle brother and his new wife. “Everything’s just fine.”  



End file.
